


The Moon Aware of the Dawn

by sableu



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Spoilers - Chapter 973, Wano Arc (One Piece), slightly worse than canon-typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23524303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sableu/pseuds/sableu
Summary: Denjiro has spent many years in Orochi's employ, and they haven't been easy ones. // Sort of a day in the life of what I imagine Denjiro endured while he and Hiyori were undercover.
Relationships: Denjiro & Kozuki Hiyori
Comments: 17
Kudos: 50





	The Moon Aware of the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I finally write another fic and it's about a character with an extremely small fanbase. Oops. Hope you guys enjoy! This was basically written so I'd have a place for some of my Denjiro headcanons that didn't work well as just Tumblr posts. 
> 
> Hiyori and Denjiro have a purely familial relationship here, as the story will make clear. And it's not tagged as such bc it's a very minor part of the story, but yes I decided Denjiro was in unrequited love with Oden because it's my quarantine and I get to give my faves gay yearning if I want to

Denjiro was in the middle of tying his bandana around his head when Hiyori opened the door.

“You’re leaving already?” she said.

He sat down on the windowsill. “I can stay for a moment. Is everything all right? You’re home earlier than usual.” It was already past sundown, but late nights were typical for a job like hers.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

She trailed over to the mirror and started to let her hair down from its intricate updo. He watched as she wiped the heavy makeup off of her face, his heart aching. They seldom talked about it, but he knew how difficult of a role hers was to play. It was the biggest fight they’d ever had, when she’d decided that she wanted to become a courtesan.

_“I can’t let you do that, Lady Hiyori. It’s too dangerous.”_

_“It’s the easiest way to get close to Orochi!”_

_“I’m close enough to Orochi. All you have to do is lie low and not let anyone know your true identity.”_

_“But I could do more!”_

_“I can’t allow it. Your father would never forgive me if he knew I let you do something like that. I’m supposed to protect you.”_

_“My father is dead!”_

_“Fine._ I _would never forgive myself if I let you do something like that. Please, my lady.”_

She hadn’t listened, of course. She never did, not when she’d really set her mind on something. At the very least, he knew it brought her comfort that she was combatting Orochi in some way, and he was glad of that. The only thing worse than the agony of having to work alongside and pretend to like Orochi would have been the agony of doing nothing at all, and watching helplessly as he destroyed their country.

It was the reason he still went out almost every night and stole from rich citizens of the Flower Capital, in order to pass on that money to the destitute parts of Wano. He never felt like he was doing enough. This country, once so beautiful, had fallen apart around them. It was all they could do to cling to hope and reason.

His wasn’t an easy role to play, either.

He got down from the sill and padded over to her. “I’m glad I was able to see you before I left. There’s something I wanted to say to you.”

“Huh?”

He knelt down on the tatami mat and bowed so low that his forehead almost touched it. “I’m sorry for what I said today, my lady. I didn’t mean it.”

Hiyori laughed. “Oh, stop it. Of course you didn’t mean it. I know that. Would you expect an actor on the stage to apologize to his co-star for lines spoken during a performance?”

“I know, but I…”

It still hurt him, every time. Everyone knew Hiyori as someone who was under his wing, which was useful for their purposes, but could be unfortunate too. Any time that “Komurasaki” spoke out of turn, as she had today, he was expected to put her in line. Kyoshiro was known as a ruthless man, and not one who would mince words. If he was any less harsh with her than he had been, it would look suspicious. He still hated it, though. He hated speaking to her that way.

Hiyori knelt and wrapped her arms around him in a hug, forcing him to raise his head. “We’re doing what we have to,” she said.

He didn’t know how he possibly could have gotten through any of this without her. Every time he faltered, she was there, a living reminder of his debt to the Kozuki clan. It wasn’t just about what Lord Oden had done for him anymore, though. It was also about her, as her own person. She was so brave and intelligent and kind, and he wanted her to be able to live in a country that was safe. He wanted her to not have to lie or hide herself anymore. It was what she deserved.

He straightened up and picked his bag off the floor before finishing tying his bandana under his nose. “I’ll be back.”

“Good luck,” Hiyori said softly. “Don’t get caught.”

He gave her a reassuring grin. “I never have been before, have I? Good night, princess. Sleep well.”

Early the next morning he was called upon by Orochi to act as his bodyguard while he visited one of the lower class towns. The shogun liked to do so now and then, for some reason- probably to relish in the suffering he’d caused, or some similarly despicable reason. It was even harder than usual today for Denjiro to drag himself off of his futon. He’d only managed to catch an hour of sleep between returning from distributing money in Ebisu and getting Orochi’s call.

Hiyori opened her eyes and sat up from under her blankets as he pulled on his cape, ready to walk out.

“Denjiro!”

He looked back and frowned at her. “It’s still early, my lady. Go back to sleep.”

“No! I mean, I will. It’s just- your hair.”

He froze and reached up to touch his head. Just as she’d said, his pompadour was missing. He swore and rushed over to the bathroom to put it on as she giggled. He had to admit that it _was_ a funny situation, but it had also been a potentially dangerous one. It would have taken some serious explaining to justify the pompadour’s sudden absence, and Orochi was an extremely suspicious man. If he could make such an obvious mistake as this, he might make other mistakes. He couldn’t afford to make any. Not this close to the twenty year mark.

He left their rooms and went to the front of the castle to meet Orochi and the other guards, feeling flustered and exhausted. Thankfully even after the morning’s debacle he arrived with time to spare before the shogun himself appeared.

“You’re so lucky, Boss Kyoshiro,” one of the other guards said to him.

“Hm?”

“One of your underlings mentioned to me that your sleeping quarters are connected to those of Komurasaki the Oiran.”

He shook himself, trying to push his tiredness away and get into character. He plastered on a sly smile. “Well, of course. She’s something of a protégé of mine. I took her under my wing a long time ago. It’s only because of me that she’s been able to get where she’s gotten.”

The guard looked amazed. “I’ve only ever seen her from afar during processions. Is she as gorgeous as they say?!”

“Even more so.”

Hiyori was beautiful; no one could deny that. Everyone in Wano, both male and female, swooned in her presence. He could never see her the way people like the guard saw her, however. When he looked at her, he still saw the baby that Toki had held in her arms. He still saw the small, ragged girl he’d picked up off the streets and taken in after she’d run away from Kawamatsu. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t see her as anything more than that.

He knew that she appreciated the lack of interest, too. There was a trust between them. Hiyori could walk around their rooms in only her undergarments or a towel after a bath without him sparing her a glance. He knew she hated that he treated her like a child sometimes, but after spending hours every day and night being fawned over and seen as an object, it was also obvious that she was relieved to go home to a place where no one wanted to sleep with her.

He could tell the other guard wanted to hear more about Hiyori, but they were interrupted by the arrival of Orochi.

The shogun smiled widely, revealing his mis-matched teeth. He adjusted his crown, which had looked ready to fall off his head, and took his seat in his carriage. “Let’s go, Kyoshiro! I want to take in the sights of my country.”

When Denjiro had first pledged to be at Orochi’s side so many years ago, he had assumed that eventually it would get easier. Someday he’d be able to look at Orochi’s face without feeling physically ill, and without all the rage and grief of Oden’s death returning to him. He’d been wrong, however. He still felt those feelings every single time he was in the shogun’s presence, he’d just gotten very good at forcing them down to his stomach where they couldn’t show on his face.

The town Orochi insisted on being taken to was a small one on the outskirts of the capital. Even though they were so close to the place where all the food and wealth was being hoarded, they still had nothing. The people here were sick and dying. Denjiro tried to bring them money he’d stolen whenever he could, but it was never enough, and there were always so many other towns in need too. He wanted to save everyone, but he knew the funds he gathered as Ushimitsu Kozo were nothing more than a bandaid. The only way to save this country was to destroy the entire system of power.

Orochi laughed and pointed as they rolled through the town, as if he was a tour guide and the decrepit houses and their even more decrepit inhabitants were tourist attractions. Denjiro smiled and laughed along. He’d gotten very good at smiling without meaning it, too.

“I remember when Oden danced naked through these streets,” Orochi said, leaning out the window of the carriage to sneer at a young couple begging on the side of the road. “What a fool! I still can’t believe he agreed to it. He humiliated himself like that, and in the end, what was it for? Nothing at all. It was all completely pointless!” He burst into laughter.

Denjiro dug his nails into his arm, forcing himself not to react. Orochi had talked about Oden and his samurai before, but usually only when expressing his fears about the prophecy coming to pass. Denjiro could handle fear; in fact, he found it quite amusing how afraid Orochi was of the Kozuki samurai, all while one of them was standing right at his side. To have to keep quiet and listen while his lord was mocked by the very man who’d ordered his execution, however, was a more difficult task.

“Oh, you should have seen it!” Orochi howled. “Kaido didn’t even let him finish his sentence before he shot him dead! All that after surviving burning oil for an hour, while holding his vassals above him. In the end he still died. They all died!”

_You wish._

Orochi hung out of the window again. “Even if they do come back, I’ll simply kill them again! I was the winner, and he was nothing!”

Denjiro clenched his teeth, determined to render his rage invisible. There were so many things he wanted to do and say that he couldn’t. He wanted to grab Orochi and scream that-

“Lord Oden was ten times the man you are!”

Denjiro was momentarily shaken, afraid that his thoughts had somehow voiced themselves without his permission. This wasn’t the case, however: it was one of the peasants from the village who had spoken. Unlike the others, who’d bowed in respect as Orochi’s carriage passed, he had come to stand in front of it, fixing Orochi with a challenging stare.

“All you’ve done is destroy this country,” the man said. Beneath the hem of his patched kimono, Denjiro could see the symbol of a crescent moon tattooed on his ankle. “Oden tried to save us. He was a great man!”

Denjiro wanted to feel pleased to see someone was still on their side, and that there were still those who believed in the Kozuki and were willing to stand up against Orochi’s tyranny. He couldn’t, though, because he knew what was going to come next.

 _“How dare you?!”_ Orochi spat. “How dare you speak against your shogun, and how dare you defend that man! You’ll pay for your insolence! Kyoshiro, kill that idiot now.”

Denjiro had been poised in his seat, ready for the order. He’d heard it too many times before. He leapt from the carriage and walked over to the man, one hand on his katana.

The peasant stumbled backwards. “The Kozuki samurai will return, and when they do, you will all pay for what you’ve done to Wano.”

 _You’re right,_ Denjiro desperately wanted to say. _You’re absolutely right._

Instead, he grabbed the man by the wrist and effortlessly threw him to the ground. He was already significantly bigger and stronger than the average person, but doing so was made all the easier by the fact that the man was clearly malnourished. The man’s composure broke and he whimpered, staring up at him with wide, terrified eyes. He winced at the sound of Denjiro’s katana leaving its scabbard, then screamed in agony as said katana was plunged into his side.

Orochi cackled. “Yes, yes, yes! That’s exactly what you deserve! Get him, Kyoshiro!”

Denjiro pressed the blade into the man’s gut, watching as blood soaked through his clothes and dripped onto the dirt. It was a serious, painful wound- but it wasn’t fatal, necessarily. Over the years Denjiro had taught himself how to wound without killing. He’d learned where every organ was and how to avoid piercing any of the vital ones. With immediate medical care, the man could survive.

He knelt down until his face was right beside the man’s ear, acting as though he was merely pushing the blade deeper. “Stay silent and play dead,” he hissed. “As soon as Orochi is gone, apply pressure to the wound and call for a doctor.”

He straightened up and resheathed his katana. Taking a deep breath, he forced a wicked smile in the direction of the horrified onlookers. “Let this be a lesson to you not to speak ill of our lord.”

He returned to Orochi’s side. The shogun was laughing and clapping his hands, delighted with what had occurred. “Oh, wonderful! It’s always good to give them a reminder! I think that’s enough for the morning, don’t you? Let’s go back to the castle. I want a feast for lunch…”

They carriage turned and began to roll away. As it did, however, a quiet moan of pain rang out behind them. Denjiro’s blood ran cold. He tried not to so much as flinch, desperately hoping that Orochi hadn’t heard the sound.

He had, of course.

“What?! That idiot peasant is still alive!” Orochi exclaimed. “My, my. You’re not usually one for half measures, Kyoshiro. I’m surprised.”

“…My mistake, Lord Orochi,” Denjiro said drily.

“No matter. It’s actually something of a relief to me that even a monster like you can make mistakes. Now…” A wide smile spread over Orochi’s face. “…Now you can make even more of an example out of him. Cut off his head.”

There was no room for hesitation. Kyoshiro would never hesitate. He was a loyal dog of the shogun, a man who cared about no one except his underlings and his lord. A violent, dangerous man. That was the part that Denjiro had played for the past two decades in order to gain Orochi’s absolute trust, and it was a role that he couldn’t stop playing until the twenty year prophecy had been fulfilled, or else it would all have been pointless.

He slowly walked back over to the peasant, drawing his sword yet again. It felt heavy in his hands; much heavier than usual. The man writhed in the dirt as he approached, clutching his bloodied torso.

“No. No, please don’t do it!” he begged. Denjiro loathed the hope in his eyes, and loathed the fact that he’d caused it by sparing him previously.

He couldn’t spare him now. There was no way to decapitate a man without killing him, and no way to avoid decapitating him while Orochi was sitting a few meters away. There was no other option. Denjiro tried to reassure himself, as he did every time that he was ordered to do something horrible, that if he didn’t do it personally one of Orochi’s other guards would have- and that what he was doing, the role he was playing, would save more people in the long run. As usual, it didn’t make him feel any better.

He raised his katana, unable to manage a smile anymore and so instead wearing a dark expression that he hoped read as ‘menacing’ instead of ‘guilty’.

 _I’m sorry,_ he mouthed at the man, as if doing so made the situation any better. As if the fact that he was sorry counted for anything at all.

He could cut entire battleships in two without batting an eye. To cut through human flesh and bone was a simple thing. Just as he’d trained his sword not to cut when he didn’t want it to, when he willed it, it could slice through necks like butter.

The man’s body let out one last, post-mortem shudder before it went still for eternity.

_“Father!”_

The cry rang through the air and made Denjiro freeze. He turned slowly to see a small boy among the crowd of onlookers. The boy was screaming and writhing in the arms of a sobbing woman intent on holding him back.

“Father! Father!” the boy howled.

Each cry felt like an echo from Denjiro’s own past.

He could still remember it like it was yesterday. He often pretended that he didn’t. It was easier to lie and say he had no memory of his parents or their death, because the alternative was too depressing. He’d never been in the mood for pity.

He did remember it, though. He remembered when the strange man had showed up at their small house in the capital, demanding his loans be paid back. He remembered being shoved into a closet by his mother and father and told to stay quiet. He could recall clear as day watching through the keyhole as they knelt on the floor, begging for their lives. He could still hear the sound of their bodies falling limply against the floorboards.

His parents had never been perfect people. They’d drunk and gambled all their money away, and most of his memories of them involved him either being ignored or being yelled at. He’d tried to convince himself that he was better off without them: unlike them he was clever, resourceful, and good with money. He could handle himself.

He _had_ handled himself, too. He’d managed a decent existence in the capital by stealing and scamming, which he’d always had a knack for. The memory of his parents’ death had still haunted him, though. They may not have been much, but for the first few years of his life, they’d still been the only family he had. For them to be taken away right in front of him….

Denjiro met the eyes of the young boy whose father he’d just murdered. Like him, that boy would never forget this. That boy wouldn’t care that “Kyoshiro” was a fake, and that Denjiro was just putting on an act. His father was still dead.

He climbed back into the carriage feeling sick to his stomach.

Orochi clapped him on the shoulder. “Now, that’s the Kyoshiro I know. We can’t let anyone get away with supporting that despicable Kozuki clan, can we?”

Denjiro beamed. “Certainly not, Lord Orochi.”

Hidden under his cloak, his nails had dug so deep into his forearm that they’d drawn blood.

Hiyori noticed Denjiro’s dark expression as soon as he walked through the door that night. She looked up from counting her money at the table to study him, concerned.

“Bad day?” she guessed.

“…I’d call it a bad day, yes.” He’d had plenty of those working under Orochi. This was nowhere near the first time he’d had to kill an innocent person in the snake’s name, either. Today was weighing on him more heavily than usual, though.

“You can tell me, you know,” Hiyori said. “You always hide these things from me, but I’m an adult now. I can handle knowing.”

“It isn’t that I don’t believe you can handle it. It’s just that…what’s done is done, and there’s no point burdening anyone else with the knowledge of it.” It was a heavy enough burden for him to bear. Knowing that it was weighing on Lady Hiyori as well would only make him feel worse.

He already felt like he’d failed her. Lord Oden had told them all once that if anything happened to him and Lady Toki, he wanted them to look after Momonosuke and Hiyori and keep them safe in their parents’ stead. Denjiro had agreed immediately, but now…hadn’t he failed in his task? Was Hiyori really safe here, having to do the job that she did, and be slobbered over by Orochi every day?

“Tell me,” Hiyori said. “Please.”

He took a deep breath. “…Orochi ordered me to kill a man who’d spoken against him. I tried to only wound him, but…it didn’t work out. In the end I was forced to kill him in front of his own son.”

Hiyori covered her mouth, horrified. “Denjiro, I’m so…”

“It’s nothing that I wasn’t prepared to do when I took on this role.”

“Still…”

“It’s necessary. For your father’s legacy, for Wano, for all the people of our country,” Denjiro said. “Besides…there’s only one more year until the others return. We’ll be free then.”

Hiyori was quiet for a moment. “Do you really believe that?”

“…What do you mean?”

“That the others are alive and they’re going to return after twenty years. That my big brother will return. That they…time traveled,” she said. “Don’t you ever worry that it might not be true, and they’re really just…gone?”

Denjiro shook his head. “I’ve never doubted that they’ll return for a moment. Your mother said it would happen, so it will. Your father said something similar as well…that this country would be free in twenty years’ time. If they believed it, it will come to pass.”

“You trust them.”

“Implicitly. Don’t you?”

She fell back onto the mat, staring up at the ceiling and letting out a sigh. “I donno. I mean, yes, I suppose I do. They’re my parents and I love them, but…I was so young when they died. Sometimes I can’t even remember their faces. I’ve seen paintings of them, but the real thing…sometimes it slips my mind. I want to believe in them, but I hardly knew them,” she said. “If I’m completely honest, I think my belief is mostly…secondhand.”

“I don’t understand, my lady.”

She grabbed his hand with both of hers and smiled. “Through you and Kawamatsu, I mean. I love the both of you so much, and you both loved and trusted my father so much, so…that means I have to have faith in him, too.”

“I wish you’d had more time with him. You…you deserved more time with him.”

Denjiro was still consumed by guilt and anger over Oden’s death every day. It had felt so…wrong. He’d died saving them, lifting them up, when their entire purpose was to save and protect _him_. They had failed as his vassals in every way.

Some days he thought he would have rather boiled alongside him. It was what he’d wanted, at the time. If Raizo hadn’t been there to put a hand over his mouth, he would have insisted on it. It didn’t feel right for a vassal to live on while his liege was dead. Before he met Oden, he’d been nothing more than a penniless, directionless orphan with no hope for a future. After meeting him, he’d decided to spend his entire life in devotion to that man. How was he meant to live on without him?

Yet live he did. If not for Hiyori and his duty to protect her, and his trust that the twenty year prophecy would come to pass, he probably couldn’t have stood to continue on. He did have them, though, so he continued. He had to. He understood now that Oden didn’t need him dead. Oden needed him alive, fighting to take down Kaido and Orochi and finally open Wano’s borders. Fighting to protect his daughter.

Hiyori walked over and sat down beside him, leaning her small form against his side like she so often had as a child. “Tell me about him.”

“About Lord Oden?”

“Uh-huh. Tell me about when you decided to follow him.”

“I must have told you that story a hundred times.”

“Well, tell it again.”

He did as she said, of course. He told her all about Kin’emon stealing the baby boar, and how its parent had destroyed the capital in a rampage as a result. He told her how Oden had sliced it in two, saving everyone inside, and then stopped Kin’emon from taking the blame for what had happened. How they’d sewn the boar back together and befriended it. How he and Kin’emon had pledged to follow Oden forever.

“I can’t believe you really wanted to hear that one again,” Denjiro said to Hiyori, who’d paid rapt attention through the entirety of his retelling.

“I donno. You always look so happy when you tell it. You’re so stressed out all the time, so it makes me happy when you’re happy.”

“I’m not stressed all the time,” he protested, but even he knew that was a lie. He was the exact opposite of the persona he put on as Kyoshiro, who was a laid back bastard without a care in the world. Denjiro worried about everything. The future, the past, the present- himself, Hiyori, his friends, his country. He worried about all of it for every second of every day.

“You loved Father as soon as you met him,” Hiyori said thoughtfully.

“Who couldn’t, after seeing something like that?” he said. “I know there were dozens of other men who witnessed what he did that day and wished they could follow him too. Kin and I just had nowhere else to go, so we could actually go through with it. Besides, that’s just what Lord Oden was like. He had an ability to…draw people to him like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It was just in his nature.”

“Like moths to a flame.”

He chuckled. “I guess so.”

It wasn’t fair to pretend they had all loved Oden the same way, however. Someone like Kikunojo, who had met him when she was barely more than a toddler, had seen him as a father figure in a way that someone like Ashura had not.

Kin’emon had voiced as much, himself: _“We all love Lord Oden, of course, but you and me, Den…we were first. For months it was just the two of us. That’s special, right?”_

He’d thought that his and Denjiro’s love of Oden had been the same, but he’d been wrong, too.

In the past Hiyori had asked Denjiro why he, a man now in his fifties, had never married- why he never even dated or showed interest in anyone. He’d shrugged it off, telling her it was because it was too dangerous. He couldn’t risk compromising his position by revealing his true self to anyone but her, but it also didn’t seem fair to lie to a woman he was interested in and let them fall in love with Kyoshiro, since Kyoshiro didn’t really exist. It was easier not to pursue anyone, and to push away others’ attempts to pursue him.

This attitude had gained him something of a reputation in the capital. There were rumors that he and “Komurasaki” were secretly in love, which he was quick to put to bed whenever possible both so Orochi wouldn’t get any ideas about them being in collusion and because the notion was disturbing to him as her guardian. Others claimed he was simply too heartless and terrifying to even be capable of love, which was an interpretation he was much more willing to allow.

It, too, was far from the truth, however. Denjiro was more than capable of love. He’d spent most of his life in the throes of it: an unrequited, unarticulated love that remained as a constant ache in the back of his throat even now, nineteen years after the object of it had died.

Denjiro had hardly even admitted to himself that he was in love with Oden, let alone to anyone else, but nonetheless he knew it was true. It had been hard to tell the difference between love and idolizing infatuation when he was young, but as he’d grown older and gotten to know Oden better as an equal and the feeling had remained…he knew what it was.

It didn’t matter, though. He’d never intended to act on it, or even come close to thinking he might possibly have a chance. If there was such thing as someone being out of one’s league, then Oden must have been a hundred leagues above him. He hadn’t been upset when Oden had returned to Wano with a wife and two children in tow. He’d cared for Lady Toki deeply, and come to see her as a dear friend. Every passing day, Hiyori looked more like her. That didn’t bother him, nor did the fact that Oden had gone to his grave never knowing Denjiro’s feelings. It was for the best.

The only problem now, though, was that the bar had been set too high. No one could ever be as good at Oden. That was impossible. Even if his current position _had_ been one where a romantic relationship was feasible, he doubted he could have managed one. He was always going to be too hung up on Oden’s death to move on. It was useless pretending otherwise.

What a mess. What a mess it all was- him, his life, and this plan. To stake everything on time travel. To depend on ghosts.

He’d told Hiyori that he believed in the prophecy because he trusted Toki and Oden, but that was only the partial truth. The other reason he believed in it was simply because he _had_ to. He had to believe in something, or else he’d go mad. If he couldn’t trust that there was a light at the end of this tunnel, he’d never be able to take it.

The prophecy had to be true because if it wasn’t, he and Hiyori had done all this for nothing, and that wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be for nothing. He could not accept that possibility.

While Denjiro had been lost in contemplation, Hiyori had received a call. She turned back from the Tanishi wearing a world-weary expression.

“Orochi’s called me to his quarters,” she said.

Denjiro trembled, rage instantly reverberating through him. “You don’t have to go, you know,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I do. If I don’t he’ll be suspicious, and I might lose my place as his favorite courtesan. I need that position to learn more about his plans. Like you said, we’re so close to the end of the twenty years. We can’t give it up now. This is just another opportunity to gather information.”

“We could,” Denjiro said. “I’d do it in an instant if you said you couldn’t take this anymore.”

“That could destroy everything we’ve built.”

“I don’t care. It’d be worth the risk.”

Hiyori laughed lightly. “I appreciate that you care, but…I’m not a little kid anymore. I can handle this. You had to do something awful today yourself, didn’t you? We all have sacrifices we must make.”

He wanted to tell her to stop, to end it right then and there, but he couldn’t. She was right. She was an adult and it was her decision, not his. In the same way he’d had to let her father boil in the water alone, he had to let her do this. That didn’t make him feel any less miserable or angry about it, though, as he watched her get ready to leave.

“It’s always an option. Just remember that,” he said. “If you need to give up on your persona or the plan, you can. I’ll handle the fall out.”

“I’m telling you, it’s fine.”

She knelt down and kissed him farewell on the temple before walking out the door. He sighed and collapsed back onto the mat, staring at the ceiling.

Tonight was a night off for him. His movements as Ushimitsu Kozo were very deliberately timed so as to avoid capture; so he didn’t just run around stealing every single night. He was both disappointed by and grateful for that. He’d barely slept in the past 48 hours so he knew he needed rest, but he also knew it’d be difficult to fall asleep while knowing Hiyori was stuck spending the night with Orochi anyway. At least thievery would have taken his mind off things.

In the end, he poured himself a cup of sake in the hopes it would calm his nerves. He’d rarely drunk before Oden’s death except on special occasions, but when he became a yakuza it had been expected of him to drink well and often. He’d gotten into the habit of it as a result, and after a while it was no longer just something he did to uphold his persona, but also a tool to help him cope. It was a lot easier to deal with being in Orochi and Kaido’s presence and having to laugh along while they talked about murdering his friends when he was shitfaced.

He took the sake with him and went to sit on the balcony. It was hard, looking down over the prosperous capital while knowing the ruin that the rest of the country was in. All of it was hard.

The moon was still shining bright and round overhead, however, the same as it always had. Life wouldn’t be like this forever. There were hundreds more throughout Wano like the man who had stood up to Orochi today, and _they_ wouldn’t die. They’d fight back a year from now, once the other Kozuki samurai had returned. They’d stand together on the battlefield, and they’d win. Hiyori would be free to use her true name again, and so would he. They’d both be free. He’d never have to pick up his katana again if he didn’t want to, and he’d certainly never have to use it to shed the blood of innocent men.

He wouldn’t have to be angry anymore.

He raised his sake to the night sky, finding himself suddenly smiling despite all the pain that the last day- no, that the last nineteen years- had brought him.

“We’ll do it, Lord Oden,” he said aloud. “We’ll open Wano’s borders. We’ll avenge you. It won’t be for nothing. All of our work will come to fruition and the Kozuki legacy will be safe, I promise you. _It won’t be for nothing.”_


End file.
